


Across the Threshold

by coalitiongirl



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Community: ba_rosebuds, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-25
Updated: 2011-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-26 12:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coalitiongirl/pseuds/coalitiongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before and during "Welcome to the Hellmouth." Angel prepares a gift for Buffy, even as he receives a less tangible one from her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across the Threshold

_It’s silly and presumptuous and he’s suddenly sure that she’s going to take it the wrong way and reject it and him completely. It’s a mistake, and he’s better off stepping out of the store and forgetting the little silver piece altogether, no matter how much it calls to him.  
_  
She’s been beautiful since the moment he first saw her, and he loved her even then; but never has he really been attracted to her until this moment, the innocence he’d once seen gone and the dark weariness of reality consuming her. She’s straddling him and speaking threateningly, and he’s quipping like Angelus, feeling like himself again for the first time in a century.  __

 _He’s still drawn to it and all it embodies. And maybe he has no right to be buying gifts for a girl he’s never even met, but he knows instinctively that this is perfect for her. Simple and sleek. Tempting and dangerous. For the slayer and for the girl.  
_  
Her eyes linger on his body as he speaks, and he smirks at the not-so-subtle way she’s checking him out. He doesn’t deserve her attention, but he clings to hope regardless, drawn to her as a moth to a flame and hating himself for wanting more. He’ll destroy her as he has everything he’s ever loved. He needs to stay away. He needs to quash the desire. He needs to find the desire to quash said desire.  
 _  
“This one,” he tells the man behind the counter. “Don’t wrap it, just leave it in the box.” He touches it, feeling the heat sear his finger, and revels in the pain. She’s the kind of girl who deserves all the gifts in the world, and he’s just contributing a bit. It doesn’t have to mean anything. Not if she doesn’t want it to.  
_  
He tosses her the box and a boyish grin, privately amazed at how rapidly being around her has snapped him out of his misery. How quickly she’s reaffirmed his existence without even knowing. She doesn’t open it until he’s gone, and it’s a relief, because he knows that his face alone would have betrayed too much, too soon. He loves her. He wants her. He needs her. And if the cross he’s given her doesn’t say that yet, he knows that it will someday.


End file.
